Every Saturday night the Clover Leaf Social Club gave ahop in the hall of the Give and Take Athletic Associationon the East Side. In order to attend one of these dancesyou must be a member of the Give and Take—or， if youbelong to the division that starts off with the right foot inwaltzing， you must work in Rhinegold’s paper-box factory.
Still， any Clover Leaf was privileged to escort or beescorted by an outsider to a single dance. But mostly eachGive and Take brought the paper-box girl that he affected；and few strangers could boast of having shaken a foot atthe regular hops.
Maggie Toole， on account of her dull eyes， broad mouthand left-handed style of footwork in the two-step， went tothe dances with Anna McCarty and her “fellow.” Anna andMaggie worked side by side in the factory， and were thegreatest chums ever. So Anna always made Jimmy Burnstake her by Maggie’s house every Saturday night so thather friend could go to the dance with them.
The Give and Take Athletic Association lived up toits name. The hall of the association in Orchard streetwas fitted out with muscle-making inventions. With thefibres thus builded up the members were wont to engagethe police and rival social and athletic organisations injoyous combat. Between these more serious occupationsthe Saturday night hop with the paper-box factory girlscame as a refining influence and as an efficient screen. Forsometimes the tip went ’round， and if you were among theelect that tiptoed up the dark back stairway you might seeas neat and satisfying a little welter-weight affair to a finishas ever happened inside the ropes.
On Saturdays Rhinegold’s paper-box factory closed at3 P. M. On one such afternoon Anna and Maggie walkedhomeward together. At Maggie’s door Anna said， as usual：
“Be ready at seven， sharp， Mag； and Jimmy and me’ll comeby for you.”
But what was this？ Instead of the customary humble andgrateful thanks from the non-escorted one there was to beperceived a high-poised head， a prideful dimpling at thecorners of a broad mouth， and almost a sparkle in a dullbrown eye.
“Thanks， Anna，” said Maggie； “but you and Jimmyneedn’t bother to-night. I’ve a gentleman friend that’scoming ’round to escort me to the hop.”
The comely Anna pounced upon her friend， shook her，chided and beseeched her. Maggie Toole catch a fellow！
Plain， dear， loyal， unattractive Maggie， so sweet as a chum，so unsought for a two-step or a moonlit bench in the littlepark. How was it？ When did it happen？ Who was it？
“You’ll see to-night，” said Maggie， flushed with the wineof the first grapes she had gathered in Cupid’s vineyard.
“He’s swell all right. He’s two inches taller than Jimmy，and an up-to-date dresser. I’ll introduce him， Anna， just assoon as we get to the hall.”
Anna and Jimmy were among the first Clover Leafsto arrive that evening. Anna’s eyes were brightly fixedupon the door of the hall to catch the first glimpse of herfriend’s “catch.”
At 8：30 Miss Toole swept into the hall with her escort.
Quickly her triumphant eye discovered her chum underthe wing of her faithful Jimmy.
“Oh， gee！” cried Anna， “Mag ain’t made a hit—oh， no！
Swell fellow？ well， I guess！ Style？ Look at ’um.”
“Go as far as you like，” said Jimmy， with sandpaper inhis voice. “Cop him out if you want him. These new guysalways win out with the push. Don’t mind me. He don’tsqueeze all the limes， I guess. Huh！”
“Shut up， Jimmy. You know what I mean. I’m glad forMag. First fellow she ever had. Oh， here they come.”
Across the floor Maggie sailed like a coquettish yachtconvoyed by a stately cruiser. And truly， her companionjustified the encomiums of the faithful chum. He stood twoinches taller than the average Give and Take athlete； hisdark hair curled； his eyes and his teeth flashed wheneverhe bestowed his frequent smiles. The young men of theClover Leaf Club pinned not their faith to the graces ofperson as much as they did to its prowess， its achievementsin hand-to-hand conflicts， and its preservation from thelegal duress that constantly menaced it. The member ofthe association who would bind a paper-box maiden tohis conquering chariot scorned to employ Beau Brummelairs. They were not considered honourable methods ofwarfare. The swelling biceps， the coat straining at itsbuttons over the chest， the air of conscious convictionof the supereminence of the male in the cosmogony ofcreation， even a calm display of bow legs as subduing andenchanting agents in the gentle tourneys of Cupid—thesewere the approved arms and ammunition of the CloverLeaf gallants. They viewed， then， genuflexions and alluringposes of this visitor with their chins at a new angle.
“A friend of mine， Mr. Terry O’Sullivan，” was Maggie’sformula of introduction. She led him around the room，presenting him to each new-arriving Clover Leaf. Almostwas she pretty now， with the unique luminosity in her eyesthat comes to a girl with her first suitor and a kitten withits first mouse.
“Maggie Toole’s got a fellow at last，” was the wordthat went round among the paper-box girls. “Pipe Mag’sfloor-walker” —thus the Give and Takes expressed theirindifferent contempt.
Usually at the weekly hops Maggie kept a spot on thewall warm with her back. She felt and showed so muchgratitude whenever a self-sacrificing partner invited herto dance that his pleasure was cheapened and diminished.
She had even grown used to noticing Anna joggle thereluctant Jimmy with her elbow as a signal for him toinvite her chum to walk over his feet through a two-step.
But to-night the pumpkin had turned to a coach and six.
Terry O’Sullivan was a victorious Prince Charming， andMaggie Toole winged her first butterfly flight. And thoughour tropes of fairyland be mixed with those of entomologythey shall not spill one drop of ambrosia from the rosecrownedmelody of Maggie’s one perfect night.
The girls besieged her for introductions to her “fellow.”
